


can salt taint sea-flowers, grief, happiness?

by stellahibernis



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Avengers Family, Avengers Tower, Complicated Relationships, Exes to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Road Trips, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:01:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25786279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellahibernis/pseuds/stellahibernis
Summary: “But you’re my friend.”Steve blinked, his lips twisting, and Bucky was sure he understood all too well, could see everything that was going on in his head with more clarity than Bucky really wanted to. Yet, the question Steve asked still felt like being punched.“Am I really?”When Bucky realized he’d need help after escaping from Hydra after the helicarriers fell, he returned to New York. The Avengers helped him get better, and he was doing well enough, but there were still things that were difficult, among them his relationship with Steve.There were things he felt he had to hide, and he tried to keep them from interfering, but they only ended up driving a wedge into their relationship, and what was worse, he didn’t realize how bad it was until Steve was already leaving, getting on his bike and heading out to find his own peace.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 25
Kudos: 136





	1. Chapter 1

It should have been getting easier, was Bucky’s thought, but in this, like so many other things, the world didn’t care about his opinion at all. He’d been living at the Tower for over almost eighteen months already, and had been free from Hydra’s grasp for more than two years. As free as he ever could be, anyway. All that time spent making his life his own again, and it still was a struggle to meet his oldest friend.

He’d taken the stairs, because it was slower than the elevator, giving him more time to get into the right mindset for spending time with Steve. He had a plan ready, he was going to suggest an early lunch. He’d seen Steve come back from his longer than usual morning run some time earlier, and by now he should be both showered and hungry, so the offer of company for a meal should be easily accepted. Not that they tended to debate in general, Steve seemed to be happy enough to spend time with Bucky whenever he suggested it, and had even learned to avoid the threads of conversation Bucky wasn’t ready to handle. Still, Bucky always came prepared with a few topics to discuss, and a plausible enough excuse in case he needed to get away. He was as ready as he ever would be, and there was no use delaying. Walking any slower would just work against him, because it would give him time to think of everything that might go wrong, no matter how outlandish, and so he took the rest of the steps three at a time.

He had free access to Steve’s apartment, and so he let himself in without knocking the way he always did. When inside, all his carefully thought out words immediately flew out of his head and he just stared, uncomprehending. There was a duffel and a backpack on the floor, both open, and Bucky could see a pair of sneakers and some neatly folded clothes in the duffel, and a sketchbook, a pencil case, and a tablet in the backpack. There were protein bars, bags of nuts, some fruit, and a reusable water bottle waiting on the counter that separated the kitchen area from the living room. Steve’s boots, heavy leather jacket, gloves, and, surprisingly, a helmet waited by the door. Bucky knew Steve only used the helmet when he didn’t want to draw attention to himself, which meant wherever he was going, he wanted to keep a low profile.

It took only a second to register everything within sight, and then Steve was there, coming from the hallway leading toward the rest of the apartment, carrying a bag of toiletries.

“Oh, hi, Bucky.” Steve appeared momentarily surprised to see him, but not really thrown about it, and continued his task without a pause, quickly placing the toiletry bag inside the duffel and closing it, then started to carefully back the snacks into the backpack.

“Where are you going?” Bucky finally asked, since it became obvious Steve wasn’t going to just volunteer the information for some reason.

Steve now did pause for a second, glancing at Bucky with an unreadable expression. “Haven’t really decided.” He resumed packing and was soon zipping the backpack closed. “Guess I don’t have a destination, I’ll just hop on the bike and see where I’ll end up.”

“You’re just going to leave, without talking about it with anyone?” It was the thing Bucky had the hardest time wrapping his head around; that Steve wouldn’t prepare others for his departure, when he generally felt responsible for his team, and over the last year had especially made time for the twins they’d found at a Hydra base in Sokovia. His life was so tied to the Avengers that Bucky absolutely would have expected him to consult people beforehand, and that at least some of them would know of his going beforehand.

Turned out, he’d only been wrong about himself being included among those in the know.

“Of course I’ve talked about this. Sam helped me to come to the decision in the first place, helped me to see I needed to do this for myself, and Wanda and Pietro are still working to deal with everything and settling here, I wouldn’t leave without making sure it wouldn’t make things harder for them. And there’s no hiding things from Nat, obviously. I’m going to tell everyone else before I leave.” Steve said it all so matter-of-factly, as if Bucky was silly to even expect otherwise, and perhaps he had been.

“But you’re my friend.”

It was a complete non sequitur, but Bucky had no other way to convey his argument. Everything else he might have said sounded wrong in his head, too selfish, too expectant, and maybe the fact he needed to turn to this was proof that the argument itself couldn’t really hold water.

Steve blinked, his lips twisting, and Bucky was sure he understood all too well, could see everything that was going on in his head with more clarity than Bucky really wanted to. Yet, the question Steve asked still felt like being punched.

“Am I really?”

“What? Of course you are. You’ve been saying it at every chance, and I’m sure you haven’t forgotten.”

Steve smiled, but it wasn’t any of his usual smiles, not a happy nor a sad one, not the one he gave when hiding pain. This smile had a bitter edge to it. “Of course I remember, but I can only say it for my part. It means I consider you my friend and I’d like to be yours, but your recent behavior suggests it’s not exactly mutual.”

There was a cold dread making itself at home in Bucky’s stomach, but he still asked, he needed to know what exactly Steve meant. “Why would you say that?”

Steve, of course, kept seeing more than Bucky wanted him to, which had made many things harder ever since he’d come back. “You know what I mean. That it feels like you spend time with me because you feel like you should, not because you want to. Three sparring sessions, three meals, and a movie night every week if we’re at home. You mix the days up, but it wasn’t exactly hard to notice the pattern. And more than that, we never talk of anything that’s personal. You have Tony, Helen, and Bruce to talk to about your health and your arm, and I know you share other things with Nat, Clint, and Sam.” Bucky could feel his frown deepening, and Steve waved his hand, seeing it. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t talk to them, it’s a good thing that you do. I’m honestly glad you can share those things. It’s just that with me, you’re locked up tight and keep our discussions limited to everything but personal things. You never say anything about yourself, never ask anything about me, and if I try to push even a little you always have an excuse to bolt. Which is why I haven’t pushed, recently.”

It was a lot, hearing it put so plainly, even though Bucky felt like there were points he should have argued about, things that weren’t exactly true, but perhaps it didn’t matter what his intentions had been when this was Steve’s experience. He didn’t argue, because he knew Steve, and knew it wouldn’t do any good when he’d already made his decision. “So, what are you saying?”

“I told you, it feels like we’re not friends anymore, and those are just the reasons why. Doesn’t seem like you have much use for me, and I think I’d rather we didn’t pretend anymore, either.”

Steve looked like he wanted to say more, but shook his head, and picked up his bags. He took them to the door, and pulled his boots on. Bucky didn’t have anything to say now, they were breaking apart so suddenly without him having seen the signs it was happening, even though there must have been some, considering Steve had clearly been thinking about this for a while. He didn’t know how to fix things, not when for the first time in their lives Steve seemed to have given up on them. Deep inside, Bucky had thought this day would never come. He’d wished in the dead of night sometimes, when it was the hardest to bear what had happened to him, that Steve would give up, because he’d thought it would have made so many things easier. Now he was getting the wish, and all it did was make him feel awful in a way he had never experienced.

Steve was standing by the door now, carrying his bags, the helmet, and his jacket, all ready to go, but he lingered still.

“I had hopes, so many of them, I guess, and it’s been hard to realize they’re probably never going to be fulfilled. It’s why I have to go, in here I just keep hanging on the threads even as they’re unraveling. I need to clear my head, learn how to deal and figure out what I want to do going forward, and I can’t do it here.”

Steve opened the door then, leaving Bucky in his apartment. The door closing felt like a period in a statement, an act with more finality than the simple everyday thing it was. Bucky stood there for a few seconds, and then his feet took him to the stairs and he started heading down. He didn’t stop at the floor where his rooms were, though, but continued down until he was on the garage level. There, he found a dark corner to hide himself in, with good sightlines to where all of Steve’s bikes were kept.

He had to wait for over an hour, unsurprising really, considering Steve was saying goodbyes to everyone, but finally Steve arrived. He didn’t go to the Harley he usually took out to the city, but another bike that had more room for baggage and was more comfortable on longer drives. Despite the comfort, it still handled very well, something Bucky knew from when he’d taken it out a few times, Steve having given him the permission to use any of his bikes whenever. Sometimes when driving outside the city, he’d thought that it would be easy to just keep going, to not go back, but he’d never done so. Surprisingly, it was Steve who got there first, and was the first of them to head out even though he’d seemed the one that had put on roots again in New York, when Bucky still felt like he was floating.

Steve stowed his bags, pulled his jacket and gloves on, and finally donned the helmet, becoming as anonymous as he ever was. When he peeled out toward the door, Bucky whispered, “Stay safe.”

Bucky lingered for several minutes, but he finally headed back to the stairs, starting the long climb up. He felt completely numb.

* * *

Bucky knew he’d need a wider perspective to the matter between him and Steve, considering he’d misjudged their interactions so badly he hadn’t even known Steve was leaving until it had happened. The most logical place to start was asking Natasha, who he trusted more than anyone else and who was also close to Steve. Previously, he would have said he trusted her the most after Steve, and even now his first instinct was to think so, but he now had to admit it probably wasn’t actually true, no matter how wrong it felt. When he really looked at his own behavior, trust wasn’t something he saw, and Steve had rightly called him out for it.

It took him a whole day to gather his courage to actually go to her and have the discussion, because he suspected she’d tell him things that wouldn’t be particularly pleasant to hear, even though he’d undoubtedly deserve it all and they’d be useful and necessary. She’d been an unfailing support to him ever since he’d admitted to himself he needed help if he were to recover as much as was possible for him and subsequently had sought the help from the Avengers, but she’d never coddled him. She definitely wouldn’t now either, once he’d show readiness to discuss. She probably had been the reason no one had come to bother him after Steve had left, and he was pathetically glad for it. He wouldn’t have known how to deal with company after watching Steve leave, and so had withdrawn into his little rooms near the armory he’d requested for himself, needing the peace there.

It was just after lunch the day after Steve’s departure that Bucky finally found himself standing outside Natasha’s door. He hesitated there for several minutes, snapping out of it only when he heard a yowl from the other side, telling him Liho definitely knew he was there. He tried the door and found it open, as it was when Natasha didn’t mind company. She wanted her friends to come in by themselves, or if they found the door locked to take it as a sign she wouldn’t open it anyway. Bucky had sometimes wondered how long it had taken her to train Steve out of his habit of knocking, the politeness running deep still. For him it might have been a challenge once upon a time as well, but those instincts had mostly been burned away, and he just found it convenient these days.

“Look at what the cat dragged in,” Natasha said when Bucky entered, finding her curled up on the couch. She gestured toward her open kitchen space. “Get yourself some tea, I’m sure you could use it.”

Natasha usually made her tea the Russian way with a samovar, ready to drink whenever she felt like it, and with a selection of jams to spoon in. Bucky also liked it the Russian way these days, he’d learned it from her after he’d come to live at the Tower. He hadn’t been given tea often enough during his captivity to develop a taste for it, since it hadn’t been a necessity for living, no matter how much some of his Russian captors sometimes treated it like it was essential to their existence. Not that she’d had enough tea to develop a taste for it either during her Red Room days, but she’d made the habit hers after escaping, defiantly reclaiming the parts of her heritage she hadn’t been able to cultivate.

Once Bucky had made tea for himself and sat down at the other end of the couch, with Liho curled up between them apparently content now that he wasn’t disturbing her with his aura of indecisiveness, or whatever it was that had alerted her to his presence, he was much calmer, the familiar motions of making tea and the strong sweetness on his tongue having smoothed his anxiety. Turned out, he needed the steadiness, because Natasha jumped right in, making him question a lot of things he’d thought he knew for sure with her very first remark. 

“Steve hasn’t been able to properly draw since he woke up from the ice.”

It wasn’t at all what Bucky had expected, and at first he really couldn’t see how it was relevant to the matter he’d come to discuss with her. Except of course it was, since he hadn’t known. It was also hard to believe, especially since he had evidence saying otherwise, something she would know as well.

“He always has a sketchbook on the table by the couch, and he doodles on the napkins, sometimes, when we go out.”

“I think we both know there’s a difference between doodling and actually making art. He keeps that sketchbook at a hand’s reach because he feels like he should have one, but he never picks it up, it’s always at the same place, and the only reason it’s not obvious it’s being neglected is because it gets dusted along with the rest of his apartment.”

“He packed it with him for the trip,” Bucky said, uncertain now, feeling his certainty crumbling as he made motions to argue even though he already knew it was futile.

“I think he’s looking to see if he can pick the habit up again. I hope he will,” Natasha said, her steady gaze flickering with sadness for a moment before focusing on him again. “The point, though, something similar that I think he already told you, is that you should have known this. And you would have, if you’d just cared to truly look at him, but clearly you didn’t.”

The cold lump that had formed when Steve had questioned their friendship the previous day was back in Bucky’s stomach, growing bigger now with her precise insight that he couldn’t argue with even within himself. It was now impossible to hide from the truth.

“I don’t know what to do,” he confessed, looking down at the mug held between his hands, and didn’t move even when she reached out to lay a comforting hand on his wrist for a moment.

“I can’t help you with that, you’ll have to figure it out yourself. However, I’m going to explain a few things to you, and they’ll hopefully help you at least get started in the right direction. Maybe this way you’ll have a few less things to wallow over.”

Bucky nodded, he couldn’t quite manage words right then, but he did glance up at her to see her nodding back. There was a mix of compassion and exasperation on her face, both emotions understandable enough, considering how big a misstep he’d made without seeing any of the warning signs he really should have.

“First of all, it’s logical that after what you’ve been through, it’s easier to spend time with people who don’t know who you used to be and who don’t have any expectations based on that. At the same time, since you chose to not let fully go of Steve, it was obvious keeping him at an arm’s length was just piling up issues. If you’d told him at the start you didn’t think you could be friends because of all the baggage from the past, it would have hurt him, but it also would have given him a chance to start healing.”

Bucky shuddered at the matter-of-fact way she stated it, even though he could see the logic behind it. Even the idea of completely distancing him from Steve was still too repulsive to consider, but he felt guilty too, knowing that maybe it would have been better for Steve had he been strong enough to let go. She could definitely see the turmoil he was in, and continued after flashing a gentle smile at him.

“No use contemplating what might have been right now, so I’m just going to answer the question you would arrive at given time, even if you haven’t yet. Namely, why didn’t I warn either of you about where you were headed at, since I could tell there was only pain down the road.”

It was true, Bucky would have asked this question in time, even though he hadn’t yet thought of it so far. However, it appeared he was starting to be able to properly process things, the initial shock of their parting was wearing out and his mind was kicking into the problem solving mode, the way he’d been trained to do. Granted, the circumstances had usually been about saving his mission or his life, not the most important relationship he had, but it wasn’t too different, regardless.

“I think you tried, and I brushed it off. I remember you tried to talk to me about Steve, and I always avoided it, but now I know I should have listened to you. Hindsight, though,” Bucky admitted ruefully.

“Maybe there’s hope for you yet, since you’ve decided to pay attention. You should know, I didn’t talk to Steve either, but for different reasons. Any explanation would have just felt like rubbing salt into his wounds, since he wouldn’t have been able to do much about it. We both know he was disinclined to push you in any way after you came to us. Instead, I tried to help him figure out what would make things better for him, as it was, and Sam did so as well.”

“Do you think this journey will help him?” Bucky asked, suddenly desperate, because while he’d clearly been shitty at showing it, or noticing the problems, he still did care for Steve’s wellbeing.

“I think it’ll give him a chance to really look into it. He’s been so entangled with the Avengers, SHIELD, and everything else ever since he was found that he never had a chance to properly decide what he wanted out of life or what would make him happy and want to actually live rather than just pass through time.”

It wasn’t quite as reassuring as Bucky had hoped, but he could see it, he knew enough of Steve to be aware he’d take up any burden offered to him if it was something that was right to do, no matter how much it cost him. Bucky recalled how Steve had mentioned that he wasn’t of much use for Bucky now, which felt like more of the same mindset. He’d been always told he wasn’t good for much when he’d been young and sick, and it had stuck, he apparently still carried the conviction it wasn’t enough to just be, one had to be useful.

“Moving forward, you also need to understand that I’m not saying everything you did was wrong, even if the consequences weren’t so great all along,” Natasha continued. “You needed to protect yourself, and you chose to work on your recovery and build a life for yourself, and you were entitled to do so. But he is also entitled to make choices that are the best for him in this situation, right now, even though doing so hurts you.”

Bucky nodded slowly, the picture starting to form. There was still a lot he’d need to figure out, much of it to do with his own recovery as well as his relationship with Steve, but he was starting now, determined even though he knew the process wasn’t going to be much fun.

“I know I’ve hurt him, I think I always knew, but it became obvious to me only yesterday how much, and I don’t begrudge him wanting to do what’s right for himself, even if it means I’m now thrown by it.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing, all things considered, since the way you were going about it wasn’t doing much good for you either, definitely wouldn’t have in long term,” Natasha pointed out. “Both of you will need to decide what you want from each other, whether it is to try to properly reconnect, or will it be better if you go your separate ways. I sincerely hope you’ll land on the same side of that particular decision, but you’ll also need to be prepared to deal with the eventuality you might not.”

She got up then, wandering off to do something, but Bucky knew he was welcome to stay. He got himself another mug of tea and sat back down, petting Liho while he thought. It was an ugly realization to start to see how much of Steve he’d actually taken for granted. He’d never talked about anything personal, afraid of letting out things about himself, but it had meant he hadn’t really paid attention to Steve either, because he’d been too worried about hiding. He’d never asked about his life, hadn’t asked how he was doing. Bucky dwelt on it for a long while after his tea was gone, until Natasha pulled him up to his feet and into her exercise room for some yoga.

After the practice they were laying on their backs side by side, relaxed, and Bucky felt ready to confess.

“When I started to get my memories back, so many of the first ones were of Steve. Sometimes it felt like I knew him better than I did myself, and I think I was blinded by that until now. I thought I knew what there was to know of him, and so I spent more energy on hiding than I did on looking.”

“A constant battle for Steve, that one,” Natasha said lightly, even though Bucky knew it was important. “People always think they know who he is, and the true Steve disappears among the images.”

* * *

After escaping from Hydra, Bucky had instinctively avoided other people. He’d felt safer on his own, even though he’d been lonely. It had been easier to not even try to put himself in a situation where he’d have to combat the voice inside telling him other people were not to be trusted, that they all wanted something from him, or that they would take him back to where he’d lose everything again. It hadn’t lasted long, it had soon become apparent it wasn’t a sustainable way of life or a useful path toward recovery, and he’d sought help, even against the instincts screaming inside his brain.

It had taken a lot of effort to allow himself to be as comfortable as he these days was around people, and he knew if he wasn’t careful, he might relapse back to where he’d been. With Steve gone, a part of him wanted to focus on what had gone wrong, wanted to withdraw and dwell on it, but he knew he shouldn’t, knew it would just add to his problems, and the current issue had taught him that it was all too easy for that to happen, to focus on one thing to a degree that he wouldn’t even see things going wrong before they already had.

With that, he kept up with his usual interactions with the other residents of the Tower. He’d been afraid of having to dodge conversations and questions about Steve, but no one brought it up, which he suspected was Natasha’s doing. It wasn’t that the others weren’t curious, it was obvious in the way Clint or Tony sometimes had to hold their tongues, or Sam frowned at him when he thought Bucky didn’t see. Thor, when he popped up for a visit soon after Steve had left, was markedly gentle with him. Wanda was very visibly angry at him for a week or so, but after that was friendlier than ever. She never said anything about the change in her behavior, but Pietro remarked once, apparently offhand, that they knew about mistakes and their consequences.

Perhaps a bit surprisingly Bruce was the easiest company. Bucky had never been afraid or wary of him, feeling kinship stemming from the fact they were both examples of what happened when men with power wanted to play with the serum and it went wrong, as it appeared to have done in all cases but one. Bucky knew Bruce would have pointed out he’d conducted the experiment on himself, but he also knew enough of the former general, now Secretary Ross to be convinced Bruce had probably been driven into a corner where he hadn’t seen any other option but to test the serum despite the risks.

Whatever the reason, Bruce managed to not appear curious or to blame him, just welcomed him to join in on his yoga or meditation sessions. Natasha sometimes joined them as well, and sometimes Bucky used the meditation time not to clear his thoughts but to focus on Steve, because the peaceful environment helped him to think more neutrally of what had passed between them.

Natasha had been right about it being easier to spend time with people who hadn’t known him before, because while it was obvious to them that he struggled, they wouldn’t know how much exactly he’d changed. Steve had known him better than anyone, and Bucky had often wondered how drastic his change had been in Steve’s eyes, if he could see into all the depths where Bucky had hidden the worst of it. He’d tried to hide so many things from everyone, which would have been easy if they hadn’t interacted in any way, but as soon as he was in New York, it had been impossible to deny he wanted to be in Steve’s presence. With that had begun the dance of hiding in plain sight that had eventually driven a wedge between them.

He’d wanted to spend time with Steve, but he’d also been afraid of actually talking about anything substantial with him, and so he’d planned everything, planned their interactions and conversations, how to direct them and coming up with excuses for getting out if needed. Nothing had been spontaneous, and so their meetings had become a sort of a chore, which had stressed him and which Steve had obviously noticed. It was no wonder he’d wanted to cut things off.

In hindsight it was obvious he should have managed things better, but even now he had no idea how he could have done that, not when so many things still paralyzed him when he even considered having to take them up with Steve. They were about his time with Hydra, but also about their past relationship. They’d been a lot closer than anyone had ever known, in ways that would have most likely been a certain cause for a blue ticked for Bucky and definitely Steve put on a tighter leash if anyone had found out about them. They’d never talked much of what exactly they’d meant to each other, but they had known what it meant when they were together. What they could have hadn’t been enough, not really when it had felt so unfair having to hide the thing that made them happiest, but they’d made it work well enough.

Now, Bucky was grateful that Steve had never brought the topic up, probably discouraged by how much Bucky had avoided him, but it still had been a relief, because Bucky hadn’t known then and still didn’t know what he wanted. He couldn’t say he didn’t want to get back together, that would have been a lie, but he didn’t see how it would work between them, considering how much he’d changed. It was yet another issue he’d have to come to grips with.

For the first few days his thoughts were busy with Steve, sorting out all the things regarding the two of them he’d need to come to grips with and decide how he’d want to handle them. It felt like he was laying them out in his mind, side by side, waiting to be picked up. He wasn’t sure if it meant he was any closer to finding the answers, even though Sam had often pointed out that accepting there was a problem was the first and very important step.

Well, Bucky had accepted he had a boatload of problems, and probably not enough tools to deal with them. He also couldn’t help but feel like his days were empty even though he kept up with all of his other friends, when there were no regular meetings with Steve. There was no relief to be found in not having them, no matter how difficult they’d been.

* * *

Bucky knew Steve hadn’t gone completely dark on everyone, having overheard Wanda tell Pietro while looking at her phone that Steve said hello. It was a relief, because he’d honestly expected it just a bit that Steve would go full martyr and go with his worst I can get by on my own attitude. Still, even knowing Steve was in contact with his friends, the postcards were a surprise. They really shouldn’t have been, when Bucky thought about it, it felt right for Steve to send greetings in the traditional way that they’d pretty much skipped over, not having had money to travel at first and then arriving into the future where connections were instantaneous.

The first one came for Sam, three days after Steve had set out, and after that they arrived daily for different members of their friend group, sometimes just one, sometimes several at once. Never for Bucky, which was exactly as he’d expected after finding out about the postcards. Most of his friends didn’t seem to be aware that he wasn’t getting any, but Natasha obviously knew. She offered hers for him to look at, but he never took the opportunity, feeling like it wasn’t his place. She always rolled her eyes at him, and called him a martyr, saying there wasn’t anything personal in them, that Steve wouldn’t have written such things on cards where anyone could see. It was true, but Bucky still stuck to it, partly because he feared he’d miss Steve even more if he looked at them.

Still, he wasn’t completely at dark, because he sometimes happened to hear bits of conversation about them, or saw people’s expressions when they read them, or saw the postcards themselves, declaring they were sent from a certain city or a particular state. It gave him information of Steve’s progress, winding across the country with no other obvious pattern except that he was going westward. He wasn’t moving too fast, clearly taking his time and stopping often, and Bucky was glad for it. It was only fair for Steve to get to see the country on his own terms after serving as a banner for it for so long.

A memory came, too, something that hadn’t surfaced before, and it wasn’t terribly clear even now, but enough for Bucky to be confident it was actually true, not a figment of his imagination. He remembered himself and Steve as boys, age difficult to guess with Steve lying in his bed, thin and pale and probably even younger looking than usual. In the memory Bucky was sitting on a chair by Steve’s bed, not minding that it was hard and wooden, talking a mile a minute.

He still remembered the story he’d spun, a tale of travel, not imaginary but aspirational. It had been about the two of them, older and miraculously not too short on money, traveling across the country by train, going wherever they wanted. He remembered having a whole list of places for them to visit, sights to see, all of them memorized from travel guides he’d read in the library, never brought home so that he wouldn’t get accused of being frivolous. Steve had listened, still weak from fever, but smiling finally for the first time in weeks, and when Bucky had paused for breath, he’d mentioned California and the Pacific Ocean where the sun set in the water instead of rising from it.

Bucky wondered if Steve was fulfilling that wish now, going alone since he’d come to a conclusion Bucky wouldn’t want to make the trip with him. He wasn’t even necessarily wrong about it. Bucky missed him desperately at times, but at the same time he also knew he wouldn’t have been ready to embark on a journey with Steve right now, and he hadn’t yet decided if he ever would be ready. There were still barriers that appeared insurmountable on most days, no matter how much he yearned for the potential good that came from crossing them. It was still a problem that he didn’t know if the good things were real or if they would crumble when he got too close.

With things being as they were, Bucky was glad Steve had gone, no matter how big a hole it had made in his life. He hoped Steve enjoyed his time traveling, that he saw beautiful things and met interesting people. Bucky hoped Steve would get to the Pacific, and that it would be as beautiful as Steve had ever imagined.

* * *

It took him several days before he’d gathered the courage to go looking for Sam when he was reasonably sure to find him alone. They got along well enough in general, Bucky had received a lot of good advice and support that he was grateful for deep down even though on many days it was hard to show it, hard to appear anything but annoyed by it. He was also well aware there was a wall between them, that Sam helped him because he believed it was the right thing to do, because he’d made more than just a job out of helping those in need, but it didn’t mean he personally liked Bucky all that much. In fact, he probably had a lot more reasons to dislike Bucky, and several of those had to do with Steve.

It was also the reason why Bucky now sought Sam’s advice. He’d considered the matter between him and Steve by himself, he’d talked with Natasha, and he’d drawn several conclusions. Now with Sam, he was looking to hear from someone who was fully in Steve’s corner, someone not likely to soften the blow of the truth in any way for him. He’d tried to be fair himself, and obviously Natasha had made him open his eyes, but while she cared for Steve a whole lot, she also had sympathy for Bucky stemming from their similar backgrounds. It was bound to affect the way she handled the issue, even when she hadn’t exactly pulled her punches. Sam wouldn’t have that filter, and if Bucky asked him to be straight with him, he’d probably not feel like he needed to coddle him.

Nor did Sam make it easy for him, even when he was his usual kind self, and the blow that actually hit the hardest was once again something Bucky had failed to consider.

“I’m not blaming you for this situation,” Sam said, and added, “No, really,” when Bucky arched an eyebrow at him.

Sam leaned a bit forward in his chair, resting his forearms on his knees, clearly picking his words carefully. “I always thought there was a chance of things ending up so that Steve got hurt by your relationship. I even told him so, repeatedly, but you probably can guess that did nothing to deter him. I understand why it’s more difficult for you to spend time with him than others, I get that you feel like you have to keep up walls because of all the potential expectations. I get it, and you’re entitled to do so to protect yourself, just as Steve is entitled to feel about it the way he does. That’s not going to cross any boundaries you’ve set upon yourself, only actions can do that, and we know he’s pretty careful about what he actually does or says. But the way it’s ended up working is that it has caused some awkwardness in the whole group that’s tricky to deal with.”

Bucky frowned to himself, he partly understood what Sam meant, the trickiness of having a friend group when there were members whose connection was as fragile as his and Steve’s had been ever since his arrival, but it also seemed there was more to it. “How do you mean?”

“There are obviously the ripples that come from the difficulties between you two, but it has also created some tension between Steve and the rest of us. I think most, if not all of us, felt at least a bit guilty when we saw how difficult it was for him that you confided in other people than him, to be the person you chose to confide in, when we are also his friends. It put a barrier between us none of us wanted.”

“I understand,” Bucky said, glum now, because he could see now the difficulty their friends had been burdened with, something he’d never intended. He almost wished he hadn’t come to New York, hadn’t made such a conflict of it for everyone else and especially Steve, but on the other hand it wasn’t a very serious wish. He knew he wouldn’t have made it this far without help, and he wouldn’t have trusted anyone else to help when almost everyone in the world seemed so fragile to him. He was glad despite all that it had cost to be there, to be alive and to have even started to take the first steps into living rather than just existing. Yet there was the guilt as well, unshakable.

“Yeah, it’s not simple for you, is it?” Sam asked, clearly having caught some of Bucky’s mood, even when he probably didn’t know exactly where Bucky’s head had taken him. “Trust me, though, Steve would rather you were here and safe, no matter how difficult it has been for him, than somewhere else without him knowing it. Even when it’s true that even though he cares about you the most out of all of us here, he got the least from you. It does sting, even though he’d probably never actually put it that way.”

Bucky had become aware of a similar thing before now, during his own musings about his and Steve’s relationship, but it still hit him anew when Sam said it aloud. He picked his next words carefully, he didn’t want to appear to make excuses, because he wasn’t, but he wanted to verbalize his reasoning that led to this point. He hoped that maybe it would help to speak them out, maybe there would be some new sort of insight that appeared for him, or maybe Sam would offer some. Maybe he simply needed to say it, almost like a confession.

“I was afraid, I think, of somehow tainting what there was between us,” Bucky said. “What had happened to me had changed me, and it still looms so large I couldn’t help but fear it would overwhelm everything if I let even one bit of it in. Turns out I ended up messing things anyway.”

“Probably not permanently,” Sam said, and Bucky looked up at him, a bit surprised.

“You think so?” He had to ask, because it had been a worry that had gnawed his insides ever since Natasha had suggested it, that Steve might decide he didn’t want anything to do with him going forward, that it cost too much. He’d already decided, he now finally acknowledged it to himself, that he wanted to try and mend things with Steve, but it wasn’t only his choice to make.

Sam snorted, relaxing back into his chair. “You know him, he’s not one to give up. If you give him the least bit of indication you want to mend things, he’ll be willing to try.”

The final glance Sam gave Bucky was eloquent enough he didn’t even have to say why it worried him, and Bucky nodded, wanting to reassure him as much as possible.

“It means there’s a risk he’ll get hurt again if I won’t change my ways. I get that you worry about it, and I’m honestly glad you care for him so much. I’ll try to do better. I can’t guarantee I’ll never mess up, but it won’t be like this. I get now that if I want to make it work, I need to let him in, and I think I’ll be ready to do so when the time comes.”

“No one can guarantee they’ll never make mistakes. That’s not what I worry about, and now I worry less in general. I believe you are sincere about this, so I’m good. I’m glad you’ve come to this side of it.”

Bucky smiled his thanks, and since Sam seemed amenable enough, decided to bring up something he’d been worrying over ever since Steve had left. “Steve said to me he felt like I had no use for him, and it worries me, that he thinks of it in those terms. I can’t exactly pin down all the whys, though.”

“Ah.” Sam nodded, scrunching his nose as he thought about it. “That’s something I’ve noticed about him as well. Maybe it’s to do with his youth before the serum, that he was considered useless by so many that now that he can do a lot more he has tied his self-worth into being useful to others. It’s not a good thing to do, and I think he understands it to some degree at least. It’s just not easy to get over, and so the old patterns of thought will come up especially when stressed.”

It made sense for Bucky, when Sam said it. He remembered how determined Steve had always been to do his part, to a degree of not allowing himself to recover sufficiently from his regular bouts of illnesses. It had always driven Bucky to distraction, but he’d also understood it, even if he’d wished Steve could have given himself more of a leeway. The mindset had been there during the war as well, although less noticeable, since what Steve had wanted to do had mostly been the things he’d been called up to do as well. Now that Bucky thought about it, it probably made sense it was causing trouble now that things weren’t so urgent, now that Steve could just rest if he wanted, without the whole world relying on him.

“This trip might be good for him, though.” Bucky suggested, somewhat tentatively. “It’s only for him, after all.”

“That’s what I thought, and I’m glad he did go. I hope he’ll get to have some good times, and do some uninterrupted thinking.”

They fell quiet, both of them lost in their thoughts for a moment. Bucky was more comfortable now, as if they’d breached some barrier of reservation that had always been there between the two of them.

“I’m sorry I made it harder for you, with Steve,” Bucky finally said. Now that Sam had opened up about the difficulty Steve’s friends had had, it was important to him to acknowledge it and try to make amends. He couldn’t change the past, but he could at least let them know he intended to do better from now on.

Sam smiled, real and sincere. “Thank you.” It was simple, but more than enough.

* * *

Bucky realized over the next weeks that his interactions with many of his friends at the Tower were subtly different, better in many ways. He did talk to all of them about the difficulties they must have tried to overcome because of the conflict of also being Steve’s friends, and it felt like the air was clearer after the talks even though he hadn’t really seen the trouble before. He probably would have berated himself for it, but Natasha gently smacked him on the back of his head and told him to relax, that he’d had enough to think about and that it was only now that he was really ready to consider any of this. She also pointed out that they’d all chosen to help him, that they had weighed the consequences and decided this had been the better choice in a difficult scenario. It wasn’t easy, but Bucky took it to his heart, and tried to focus on moving on.

It was easier to spend time with all of them now, he felt more relaxed, and believed it was the same for the others as well. He found himself thinking less of his behavior and where he wanted to get to, and succeeded in just being there, which probably was a significant step by itself. He felt more hopeful as days passed, and even started to wait for the day they’d meet again with Steve, no longer as much at a loss with what he needed to do since he now understood the reasons for the rift between them and had ideas on what to do to bridge it.

He still spent a lot of time by himself as well, same as he had ever since arriving at the Tower. There were many things the others could help him with, but also many that he had needed and still needed to figure out for himself, and it was the same with his relationship with Steve. It occurred to him that if they managed to patch things up with Steve, it would almost certainly help him with several lingering issues to let Steve in more than he so far had. He hoped that in turn he’d be able to help Steve with things he was struggling with, but the benefit of recovery wasn’t anywhere near the most important reason to mend things between them. Truth was, he felt like a piece of him was missing, he couldn’t imagine a life where Steve wouldn’t pay a large part, although he tried, minding Natasha’s warning that Steve might want to cut the ties. It was even more difficult with the hope Sam had given him on the matter.

One afternoon he was curled up in the huge armchair in the common room, the one usually turned toward the window and used as a quiet spot when one wanted to do some thinking but not so privately it needed to be done in their own room. For now Bucky was alone, the room having been quiet ever since the lunch, and he’d been thinking of Steve, as he often did these days. He’d been wondering where Steve was right then, and if he was doing similar soul searching while traveling as Bucky was here at home, and if it was as useful for him as it was for Bucky. He hoped it was, hoped that Steve had managed to find some sort of peace, or whatever he’d left to find.

Bucky wasn’t feeling very social that day even though he’d gone to the common room, and so he didn’t call out a greeting or even move at all when he heard the door opening. It was light outside so the window didn’t reflect anything, but he immediately recognized Sam and Natasha who were chatting and heading for the kitchen, probably looking for snacks or something to drink.

When Bucky realized the topic of discussion, he regretted not making his presence known, since it felt like eavesdropping, but it was too late then, and he was curious.

“Is it just me, or does Steve sound more cheerful in his messages recently?” Sam asked. “He used three emojis this morning in his text.”

“It’s not just you, he’s definitely more chipper. He won’t talk about the reasons or anything, which is annoying but not unusual for him to want to figure things out for himself.

“So you’re not about ready to jump on a quinjet and haul his ass back here anymore?” Sam asked, laughter evident in his voice. His question was punctuated by a grunt, from Natasha undoubtedly elbowing him, and with surrender he said, “Fine, fine. Think it’s just a general improvement of mood, or did he take your advice of taking the opportunity to get laid?”

Now Bucky absolutely regretted not calling out to them, because he didn’t like the spike of jealousy suddenly overwhelming him. He could barely focus enough to hear Natasha’s answer.

“Hard to tell, not enough data. He did dodge the subject when we talked, but he would either way. Whatever it is he’s doing, it seems to be working, anyway. Come on.”

They left, and only when the door had closed after them did Bucky slowly let out the breath he’d been holding for the last few seconds. It occurred to him that Natasha might have known he was there even when he’d stayed silent, and if so, had wanted him to hear the discussion. He couldn’t be completely sure, because while he knew she was observant enough, she also relaxed more at the Tower than anywhere else and the conditions in the room had been such that she would have needed to really look around to notice him. He wasn’t going to ask to make sure.

The jealousy lingered, much harder to put down than he wanted. He could see the hypocrisy in it, considering he’d so very clearly kept the barriers up between the two of them, making sure Steve had understood not to expect anything more, and so he had no right now to expect anything of Steve. It was still uncomfortable, especially since he wasn’t sure exactly where they might end up with Steve even if they managed to make up and become true friends again. There was no guarantee that every aspect of their previous relationship would work, and so Bucky tried to put the memories under a lid where he’d very tightly kept them up until now, ever since he’d first remembered the exact nature of his and Steve’s relationship.

It took some doing, especially once he started to wonder if Steve would manage to find someone who didn’t recognize him, or if it was even that important. He knew enough that Steve would be relatively careful in any case, he’d definitely avoid anyone who appeared they might brag about it on social media or sell their story to the trash magazines. From there, he couldn’t help but wonder if Steve had tried to find someone here in the future even before now, how difficult it would have been with the shadow of Captain America looming even larger over him than it had during the war time.

Bucky remembered how wary Steve had been of people interested in him, and he’d later heard of how he’d been burned at first, not realizing quite how steep the difference was when it came to interest in Captain America versus Steve Rogers, and how that had made it all the more important for Steve to be seen for himself. Steve had obviously relaxed with Bucky, and later with their whole team when the Commandos had come to know and understand their leader. Bucky had also been grateful that Peggy had clearly cared about Steve and not his alter ego, even though it had caused bouts of jealousy for him, even when Steve had always come back to him.

It must have felt like a betrayal now, when Steve had figured out that Bucky didn’t really see him anymore, that he just saw what he expected. Maybe it had been one of the things that had pushed Steve to leave. Bucky too felt like he’d betrayed something, maybe Steve, maybe their old friendship, maybe even himself, when he’d been so self-absorbed he hadn’t done what he’d always used to, actually look at Steve rather than assume he already knew him. There’d been a lot of realizations recently that had stung him, but this pain was still uniquely sharp. Another thing to try and make up for, if he ever got the chance.

Bucky shook his head, and got to his feet. He’d wallowed enough for one day, and was in danger of letting the darker depression in. He needed something else to think of, and decided to see if the twins were free. Steve had taught them a lot of hand to hand combat along with Natasha, the both of them focusing on their own strengths, and after Steve had left and Wanda had stopped fuming at him, they’d asked Bucky to train them instead. He enjoyed it, using the skills he’d been made to learn more gently, with the intention of teaching the twins to learn to protect themselves and others rather than just for hurting people.

* * *

It had been just over two months since Steve had left when another postcard came one morning, this time left for Bucky on his table. He immediately flipped it over, thinking it must have been delivered to him by a mistake, since he hadn’t received any so far, and considering their parting, hadn’t expected any either. He barely had the time to recognize that it had indeed been addressed to him, in Steve’s block letters he used when he wanted his writing to be legible, because what commanded his attention was the drawing.

Steve hadn’t written anything other than Bucky’s name and address, and the other half of the card was filled with a drawing of a slight young man seen from behind, dressed in a shirt and suspenders just as Bucky remembered from before the war, hair just like Steve’s had been. He was sitting on a tuft of grass on a sandy beach, looking out to the ocean where the sun was setting.

There were many things in the drawing that spoke to Bucky, many things that Steve’s choices communicated, but loudest of all to him was an absence. He knew for a fact Steve was perfectly capable of creating an effective and balanced composition, but this wasn’t like that. It called the viewers focus toward emptiness rather than the person in the image, and considering Steve’s skill, it must have been deliberate. There was an empty space on the left hand side of the figure, space for another to fit on the tuft of grass.

Bucky stared at the picture for a long time, and there was only one conclusion he had; that this was Steve asking for him to come, even though he appeared to be unable to actually write the words down.

There were also two numbers, and since Bucky believed the card was an invitation, these had to be the coordinates. He typed them into the map on his phone, and found they pointed to a beach in California, in a small city called Carmel-by-the-Sea.

Bucky stood frozen for all of three seconds, not undecided, because as soon as he’d known the card was for him, he’d also known it was time to go and find Steve. The pause was needed to rein in his rushing emotions, the surprise and relief that coursed through him. There was also uncertainty and even apprehension, even with proof that Steve wanted him there he didn’t know how it would go, although he took this to be an extremely positive sign. Steve never would have asked him to trek across the country if all he wanted was to tell him they were over, this was an invitation to spend time with him. It was also perhaps a dare, or maybe a question, because if Bucky was ready to make the journey, it meant he thought it was important, and perhaps Steve now wanted to see if it was so for him.

A few quick strides took Bucky to his closet, and he pulled out a duffel and threw it on the bed, starting to fill it up with everything he’d need. He had no idea how long he’d be gone or where he’d end up after California, but he didn’t worry about it. He focused on the necessities, knowing he’d be able to buy things along the road. He also raided the kitchen cupboards, packing up the high-protein snacks and fruit he had for some easy meals. He wanted, needed to get where Steve was as fast as possible, and not having to stop to eat as often would help him with that.

He searched for the shortest route on his phone, glad to see he’d be following Interstate 80 for most of the way there. It meant he wouldn’t need to focus too much while driving, just follow where the road took him until California. Finally he sat down to pull on his boots, and only then it occurred to him he should say good-byes to everyone in the Tower. They were his friends, after all, it would be strange not to, and yet it jarred him now. He was so focused on what he needed to do that he didn’t know what he’d say, how to even bring up that he was leaving, and it left him hesitating for the second time of the day.

He was startled when there was a knock on his door, still feeling disconnected from everything but his sudden purpose, still struggling with how to gracefully move away from the life he’d been leading. He shrugged to himself as he headed for the door. Maybe this was the start for it.

It was Wanda, and it was a bit of a surprise since they hadn’t made plans for the day. Even more curious was the slightly apologetic look on her face.

“I wanted to reach you before you left,” she said, completely straightforward, as if his going had been long planned.

“How’d you know?”

She grimaced, and now Bucky knew it had something to do with her powers, which sometimes put her into a difficult position. “You know that even though I keep the barrier in my mind up at all times, sometimes someone’s emotions are so strong I feel them anyway. And earlier I could feel you. Not all,” she hastened to explain, even though Bucky knew by now she always shut the door as fast as she could after these accidental connections, and didn’t worry about it, “I just got the sense you were going. I’m glad to hear that.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said, suddenly emotional. “I know you care about Steve, and it means a lot to me to hear anyone who does saying that considering how I behaved.”

She took his hand. “It’ll be okay. Come on, I’ll see you on the way.”

She pulled him into the elevator, but rather than the ground floor, she pushed the button for the common floor. “Everyone should be there, let’s just stop for a moment.”

Bucky realized his indecision had faded back now that he’d allowed her to lead him. Everyone was indeed waiting for them when they arrived, and Bucky suspected Natasha might have advised them, since they were all quick and sincere with their good-byes, no one asked questions or gave their opinions on the matter. Bucky was sure they’d speculate to their hearts’ content after he’d left, but it didn’t matter to him. Natasha was the last one to hug him, and he thanked her, not having enough words to convey all he wanted to say, but it probably didn’t matter, she knew him well enough. When he headed for the elevator again, he saw Wanda catch something Stark threw at her, and she accompanied him again, pressing the button for the private garage. On the way there she handed him car keys.

“I’m sure you have a getaway car or a few stashed out somewhere, but you should just take Tony’s truck,” she said.

“Why’s that?”

“Because you’ll need a vehicle that can carry Steve’s bike, because he won’t want to leave it, and I bet you want to be able to talk to each other during your drive to wherever.”

“You sound very sure we’ll end up traveling together.”

She laughed, but there was no condescension in it, just happiness. “I’d say you’d have to screw up in a major way for Steve to not want to reconcile, and I’m very sure, as are the others, that after the soul searching you’ve done you won’t.”

She didn’t step out of the elevator with him this time, just waved at him. “Thanks again,” Bucky called through the closing doors, then shrugged and pressed the button on the key, heading for the sound. The truck was practical, large enough for the bike, but not as ostentatious as was Tony’s usual style. It could have been almost anyone’s car, and so Bucky deemed it suitable.

The city was fairly congested with morning traffic, and it took some time for him to get properly going, but even so his mind was much calmer right away. He was on his way to Steve, they’d stand on the shore of the Pacific the way they’d talked about when they were children, and they’d have a chance to make things right. Steve had extended him an olive branch, and Bucky was ready to face his insecurities. He’d made his choice, and now was time to see where it would lead.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Steve reconnect on a beach in California, and start to work through their issues.

Bucky arrived at Carmel-by-the-Sea very early the third morning. He’d traveled the distance much faster than an unenhanced human should have attempted alone, stopping mostly for necessities and to sleep for a few hours during the second night. He was tired, not so much that it was dangerous to drive yet, but certainly noticeable, and he was relieved to finally be there. He thought for a moment about checking into a hotel to refresh himself, but quite honestly he was too jittery and impatient, and so he headed straight for the beach.

He obviously could have called Steve; while it was still morning, it was already late enough that Steve had regularly been up for a run in New York, and Bucky suspected his habits hadn’t changed that much. He could have called, and yet he didn’t, because it felt right to at least go to the place Steve had indicated at first.

The sun was rising steadily higher behind his back when he stepped on the beach. The tide was low but starting to come in again, with a lot of wet sand still stretching toward the sea that lay gray under the mist that the sun hadn’t yet cleared away. It was relatively quiet, the repetitive sound of the waves drowned the early traffic, and Bucky suddenly felt alone, more so than he had even inside the car on the way.

He wasn’t actually alone, though, because from the corner of his eye he spotted someone sitting on the sand some distance away, staring toward the ocean, the sleeves of a blue sweater pushed to elbows and forearms resting on knees. It felt like Bucky had summoned him, wished him into being, because it was almost too perfect that he should meet Steve alone on the beach early in the morning of his arrival.

He walked slowly toward Steve. He’d been in a hurry to get here ever since he got the postcard, but now that the moment was here, now that he was about to reconnect with Steve, he took his time and pushed it back a bit. He didn’t hesitate though, his steps toward Steve were steady, never faltering in pace or direction.

He wondered if it was just a coincidence that Steve was there right when he arrived. The place of course was the one he’d given, but there had been no way for Steve to know when Bucky would get the card, or how long he’d take on the journey. He hoped Steve hadn’t doubted whether he’d come, at least. He didn’t even know what he preferred, that it was just a morning ritual for Steve to visit the beach, or that he’d come there specifically to wait.

For the whole of his walk Bucky had been slightly further from the sea than Steve, meaning that he would have had to turn his head to see Bucky moving. Coming closer, he knew when he entered Steve’s field of vision, because there was a minute tension even before Steve glanced to his side. Had it been someone else, someone not a threat at least, he probably would have returned his gaze to the sea, but instead Steve fully turned his head, staring at Bucky who kept his steady pace until he came to a stop a few yards from Steve.

There was a pause, the both of them motionless, connected by a look, the world filled with the sound of the waves rushing at the shore. In the end it was Steve who broke the moment, scrambling up and reaching Bucky in a few quick steps, enveloping him in a hug before Bucky had any idea what was about to happen. Luckily his body reacted faster than his brain did, his arms wrapping around Steve automatically even though they’d only touched while sparring since he’d arrived at New York nearly two years earlier. When he could think, the first thing on his mind was relief that he hadn’t hesitated, hadn’t given Steve any doubt whether the closeness was welcome. Bucky pressed his face against Steve’s shoulder and just breathed him in, marveling at how right it felt. He knew this was just the first step out of many before they’d truly be okay, and many of those to come would undoubtedly be much more difficult, but the knowledge in no way diminished the significance of the moment.

A seagull flew right past them, flapping its wings to land on the sand to peck at something, and the moment broke. They pulled apart far enough to look at each other. Steve’s hand lingered at Bucky’s elbow, not holding, but as if ready to do so if Bucky would pull away. Not that he would; he’d come to be with Steve, and in a way it had been an abrupt switch, their interaction now compared to where they’d left off in New York, but they’d never been particularly typical about anything, and were even less so now. Knowing this, Bucky was comfortable enough to follow his wants, as long as Steve seemed to be right on the same page with him.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said, his first words to Steve since they’d parted. He hadn’t planned any speeches, no explanations, but he’d known this had to be said right at his arrival.

Steve looked at him with serious eyes, emotions playing underneath, thoughts flashing through so fast Bucky didn’t have time to read them, didn’t have time to try and guess where he was at. He only knew it wasn’t anything bad, he could see some kind of a weight falling off Steve, and it was confirmed when Steve nodded and said, “It’s okay.”

Bucky knew it was a simplification, there were things they’d need to work through, but it told him something the postcard had given him a reason to hope for; that Steve was as ready as he was to tackle their problems. Steve’s hand slipped down his forearm to squeeze his hand, and a bit of an ironic smile appeared on his face.

“I’m sorry, too,” Steve said, and Bucky blinked, confused.

“I really have no idea what you’re talking about. You did nothing wrong.”

“I think I did, though. I’ve always prided myself for not giving up, but I did, when it came to you.”

“I, what?” The explanation did nothing to ease Bucky’s confusion, because just as Sam had said to him some weeks earlier, Steve had always been the one to fight the hardest for him, even when Bucky had been determined to not let him in. “You always helped me, more than I deserved.”

“That’s definitely not true, you deserved it all, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I stopped trying to be your friend for real, when you pulled back. I didn’t dare to push, I think I forgot a bit that it was always part of us, to push in when the other pulled back. And I didn’t, this time. I think some of this mess could have been less of one if I had.”

Bucky blinked at him for a moment, considering. He could sort of see Steve’s thought process, the nugget of truth there, but he also knew that even so he’d been the one to retreat from Steve for all the stupid reasons, and hence deserved most of the blame, if Steve wasn’t going to give him all of it. He tried to articulate it, but couldn’t really form the sentences to do so, and was left stammering until Steve gently tugged him toward the houses nearby.

“You’re half asleep. We should have this conversation with clear heads, so it can wait for you to have a nap, or a full night of sleep, more likely.”

“It’s morning,” Bucky said, dumbly, and Steve laughed at him.

“Judging by your state, I’m pretty sure you’ll sleep until tomorrow with no trouble. I recognize the signs. Come on, I’m staying in a house over there, we’ll have breakfast and then you can get some sleep.”

There was nothing to say to it, Bucky wanted nothing more than to follow Steve, and a meal and a bed did sound heavenly, when he thought about it.

* * *

The house Steve was staying in sat right by the sea, slotted between others of similar status, well kept and probably worth an arm and a leg. Apparently it belonged to a friend of Tony’s who was traveling and had let Steve stay there for a while. It was spacious, and there was everything one needed, but it felt a bit impersonal to Bucky, with the modern furniture and appliances that had probably also cost an arm and a leg. Steve made them breakfast, explaining that the house felt rather like a hotel room did, but that it was okay for this trip, and that he liked the scenery well enough. Apparently he spent a lot of his time on the beach.

After the meal Bucky eyed the couch, which was definitely large enough to sleep on, but before he even made a move toward it Steve gently pressed a hand against his back, steering him toward the bedrooms upstairs. 

“Better not to mess up your back any more than you already did while driving.”

He was right, of course, no matter the size of the couch, it still wouldn’t be as good as a proper mattress, and Bucky was stiff from sitting most of three days in a car. Steve was familiar with his health issues, and so it wasn’t a surprise he’d correctly guessed Bucky was hiding the beginnings of pain. Or maybe he was actually showing it; he didn’t think so, but it was always a possibility, considering how tired he was. The issue was that Bucky suspected he wouldn’t sleep that well in an unfamiliar house, and had decided on the couch thinking Steve’s presence nearby might help with the paranoia. He was too tired to fight about it, though, so he decided to try at least for a start. He could always move later.

Only when they were entering the bedroom did Bucky realize his things were still in the truck that was parked by the beach, but he decided he didn’t actually care, he was now tired enough to be loopy. He knew if he’d really needed to, he could have been alert in a split second, adrenaline had an instantaneous effect on him, but right now his subconsciousness clearly thought it was safe enough despite the new environment, and he knew he’d fall asleep as soon as he was horizontal. Steve pulled what turned out to be a set of pajamas from the closet, and then steered Bucky toward the bathroom.

“Use whatever you need, this is the guest room and there are plenty of extra toothbrushes and such,” Steve said before pushing the door closed.

He was right; besides Steve’s own things lined neatly on the counter, there were drawers full of hygiene products clearly meant for visitors to use. Bucky contemplated for a moment what kind of a person owned the house, when this felt necessary to them, but gave up soon, just picked a toothbrush, and set to getting ready for bed. The shower felt heavenly after the long journey, but he kept it short since the warmth was making him even more sleepy, and in ten minutes he was out again.

The bed covers were turned down, and there was a cold bottle of water on the side table, condensation barely starting to gather on the plastic. Bucky drank about half of it, and then crawled into the bed, falling asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow.

* * *

Bucky woke up lightheaded and overheated, and from the light outside he could tell it was morning, only earlier than it had been when he’d fallen asleep. He estimated he must have slept well over twenty hours, which he’d probably needed since he’d pushed it on the way and hadn’t slept that well even before that, but he also had expected to wake up every now and then because he shouldn’t have felt safe in a completely new place. Yet here he was, having slept through the day and night uninterrupted.

When he thought of it, he also became conscious of the reason, that he wasn’t alone. He rolled around, and Steve was indeed there, not terribly close since it was a large bed, but still enough that Bucky’s sleeping subconsciousness had clearly been aware of him and hence had decided it was safe. Steve wasn’t sleeping, he was propped up with pillows and sketching in the faint morning light. He’d changed, which meant he hadn’t been there all the time, but enough that Bucky had been able to sleep in peace.

Bucky’s heart ached at the thought that Steve knew him well enough to be able to guess he wouldn’t be able to sleep alone because of his residual paranoia, and had also figured out how to help it. It spoke of a level of caring that Bucky hadn’t come anywhere near to reciprocating since they’d reconnected in New York. Bucky might have spiraled down that path of thought for far too long, but he reminded himself of what Natasha had said during one of their conversations; that guilt was a useful reminder, but not if one dwelled in it too much, not if it consumed everything, because then he wouldn’t be taking the opportunity to do better. There was no changing past, all he could do was to acknowledge what he’d done wrong and try to do better going forward. There was no time like the present to start.

“I’m not the same as I was,” Bucky said, curling up on his side and looking at Steve’s hip rather than up to his face.

“You think I don’t know that?” Steve asked, his voice soft and even, holding back emotion.

“I know you do. It’s not because I thought you thought I was the same that I held back. It was because I was afraid of how much I’d changed, the difference is so huge and I didn’t like to think about it. Only I feared if you saw it, then it would be too true, more than I could handle. I don’t know, it probably doesn’t make any sense.”

“I think,” Steve said and paused, for long enough that Bucky looked up to see him staring into the middle distance, “I guess I can sort of get where you’re coming from. What about now, though?” Steve looked down and met Bucky’s eyes, gaze unflinching now, as if he wanted to pull the answer right from Bucky’s brain without needing the words in between.

“I’m tired of pretending, nothing good came from it. This is who I am, and it’ll hold me back if I don’t acknowledge it. I was slower than you getting to this, I remember you said you’d rather we didn’t pretend, and you were right.”

“After I sent the card to you I did feel stupid, as if I was just setting myself up for hurt again after I’d said I was done with it, but I guess some things are harder to let go than others.”

“Do you still feel stupid?” Bucky made himself ask, even though the lump in his throat made speaking difficult.

For the first time that morning Steve’s eyes softened, and while he didn’t smile, he wasn’t too far away from it either. “I’m more hopeful than I was yesterday at this time, anyway. I’m ready to see where we’ll go now.”

“And I’m ready to actually talk,” Bucky said, making it a promise both to Steve and himself, one he would keep.

* * *

They didn’t really talk during the early morning, but the atmosphere was different, easier than Bucky remembered it being with Steve, even compared to the previous meeting on the beach that had gone better than he’d had any right to expect. There was a definite sense of waiting in the air, perhaps of what was to come or the right moment to truly break the barriers between them. They were cracking already just with the acknowledgment that they wanted to be done with them, but they still hadn’t pushed through, the work was still to be done, and Bucky had no illusions on whether it would be rough. With the issues he’d shied away from, getting them all out in the open would be painful even though it was necessary for them to actually move forward.

They headed back to the beach after breakfast. It was still cloudy; Steve said it often was so in the mornings while it cleared toward the afternoon, and since it was a work day, there weren’t that many people around as it was. They walked down along the shore at a leisurely pace, not really going anywhere although Bucky made a note to himself to pick the truck up and drive it to the house when they were on the way back. They easily crossed the rougher patches of terrain between the sandy beaches, and Bucky found himself waiting for what new they’d see behind each hill, even though the views didn’t really change much.

It felt almost as if being on the kind of a wander they’d called adventures in their childhood, just picking a direction to walk toward and see what they’d come across. They’d been fairly limited back then by Steve’s poor health that had meant the treks had never been that long, and living in the city, where the sights had been much the same, wherever they’d gone, especially in their part of town, where they’d needed to be smart about which streets to avoid.

These days they didn’t really need to worry about where to walk, because it was likely they’d be able to handle any trouble that randomly came around. It was only targeted attacks they needed to worry about, and those didn’t really depend on whether they took walks or not. It was nothing like before, no matter how Bucky’s mind wanted to draw him back, because those relatively careless days of their childhood were more than eight decades in the past, and there was no going back, no way to lose the baggage they’d gained over the years. It still didn’t mean those times were completely gone, because Bucky remembered them, and so apparently did Steve.

“It’s not like I imagined, back when I suggested we should come here, and not just because of the time passed,” Steve said after they’d walked in silence for a long while.

“How so?” Bucky asked. He understood the feeling, he’d been thinking along the same lines himself, but he’d learned recently he really shouldn’t expect to just know what was going on with Steve, because clearly he got many things wrong.

“It’s hard to come up with tangible details. I suppose I expected it to be like New York in summer, but obviously it’s not, it’s a wholly different place, the colors are different, and so is the quality of the air. And it’s funny, it’s almost disorienting to watch the sun set in the sea, even though I never really got to see the sunsets or sunrises back home either. It feels like a different world, sometimes.”

“Is it a bad thing?” Bucky asked, carefully putting pieces together, starting to see where Steve was maybe going with this, and his next words confirmed it.

“It’s easier to see things, sometimes, when one puts distance to the familiar.” Steve now looked at Bucky with the searching gaze that had become very familiar since he’d returned to New York. Usually he pretended he didn’t see it, or rushed to dodge whatever the question was to follow, but he didn’t now. Instead he looked Steve right into the eyes.

There were many ways he could have started, but he’d decided during the walk that when it was the right time to talk, he would be direct with it, because he’d already done enough avoiding when it came to Steve. He’d expected it to be difficult to actually get the words out, but when he started talking, it was suddenly easy to just let them flow, even when it hurt having to confess and to see Steve understand.

“I avoided anything personal because of what I already told you, that you knowing how much I’d changed would make it true. But actually, it was even more complicated, I was afraid of seeing what you saw, not just that you did. That it would put a rift between us that we couldn’t cross, because it turned out I was too different. I was too afraid, I should have remembered I could trust you, and I also should have remembered you’d changed too, that there was no way to go back to exactly what we were, no matter how well I hid.”

“Things change,” Steve just said, still hiding emotion, still searching to see where Bucky was coming from.

“I’m sorry I didn’t trust you, when you’d never given me a reason not to, just the contrary. And I’m sorry I forgot to really look at you.”

It was at those words he could see something breaking in Steve, even though he still held the emotions tight in his chest. He took a moment to look away, to regain his composure, and when he looked again at Bucky, there was just a bit of shine in his eyes. “I don’t think different is automatically bad. Or that it’s necessarily anything less.”

“I don’t either,” Bucky said, with all the conviction he had. “I know we are different from who we used to be, and I’m ready to be who I am now. And I also think that if we both want, we can find a way to fit the people we are together again.”

Steve stepped closer, closer than he’d been since the previous night when he’d steered Bucky with gentle hands into the bedroom. “I do want to try.”

Bucky had no words anymore, but he hoped Steve could see he was on the same page as he was. It was overwhelming, with relatively few words said and yet it felt like they’d communicated a lot to each other, and that the wall between them was breaking. They were also both equally overwhelmed, Bucky could see in Steve the same turmoil that was coursing through him. It would take some time, he knew, to get through everything they needed to talk about, because they’d probably have to handle it in bits and pieces just to be able to withstand the weight of history between them.

He leaned in, slowly enough to give Steve time to move away if needed, but even in his current state there was still the steel core in Steve that stayed strong, the bedrock he’d used to build his character that carried him, and he stood still when Bucky leaned close and rested his forehead on Steve’s shoulder, perhaps needing the closeness as well. After a moment Steve leaned into him and they stood there on the beach, supporting each other.

* * *

That night, they sat on the patio from sunset well into dark. Seeing the sun disappear into the waves, Bucky understood what Steve had meant about it being disorienting, there was something that felt odd about it in the very marrow of his bones, even though he’d never had any more chances than Steve to enjoy seaside sunsets or sunrises. There were the oddest things about home that stuck, it seemed, no matter that they hadn’t seemed to be that important or fundamental.

They had a few beers as they sat outside, didn’t bother to put on any of the lights, and had pulled their chairs right next to each other. It was cozy, they could speak with low voices in the dark that made it feel intimate even though they were looking at the vastness of the darkening ocean and the sky where the light was slowly fading as twilight turned toward true night.

It took Bucky a while to notice the lightness he was feeling, and what had caused it. The day had felt exhausting even though they hadn’t done much beyond the walk in the morning. The emotional backwash from earlier had left them tired, and it was only now that Bucky felt recovered, and better than he’d been before. The lightness came with a certainty he suddenly recognized, that he was now sure they would be able to mend things between them. Earlier they’d told each other they both wanted to, but now he was sure it would work. There was still no telling what their relationship would end up looking like, but he didn’t worry about it. Whatever it would be, it would mean they were important to each other, and it was enough. He also started to understand some of the advice he’d received a bit better.

“Natasha said I’d need to be prepared we might end up wanting different things about whether to reconnect or not.” Steve hummed inquisitively, and Bucky continued, “It baffled me a bit, because both Sam and Wanda were so sure you’d want to try, and at that point I already had decided I wanted to as well. Now I get she probably didn’t think we’d end up going in different directions, but her pointing it out was a shortcut to get me to think about it.”

Steve chuckled and leaned toward him, their shoulders settling against each other. “She does that. It took me a while to realize that she often says what she thinks will get me into the right mode of thinking the fastest, and that sometimes it includes provoking me. I’ve been less annoyed at her about a lot of things since I figured it out. Guess she decided it would work on you as well.”

Bucky was quiet for a moment, then decided he might as well make another confession. “Sam told me about how it was difficult for the rest of them sometimes to be friends with the both of us, because of how I put distance between us. I didn’t realize it then, but we all talked and hopefully cleared the air.” He was about to apologize for it, but Steve reached out and laid a hand on his, completely striking him silent at the unexpected contact that was so much more intense than leaning on each other.

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“I’d say I definitely do,” Bucky managed to say, his voice strangled in his own ears, but Steve either didn’t notice or ignored it.

“You’ve apologized already, so let’s just assume I’ve accepted it for everything, even if we actually talk of the reasons later.”

“Seems reckless to accept an apology without knowing what it was for,” Bucky said, a little helplessly charmed. “But I know that’s not actually out of character for you.”

“I have a feeling I won’t regret it,” Steve answered, and Bucky couldn’t say anything in face of such immense trust he felt he didn’t deserve at all. He didn’t argue it, though, because he knew Steve wouldn’t listen to it.

After a moment Steve moved his hand away, but the warmth of the contact lingered on Bucky’s skin for far longer than was physically possible. They were quiet again, watching the moon rise slowly higher to the sky, illuminating the waves with its silver light.

“I’d hoped it would get less complicated with all of you, after I left,” Steve said after a while. “It wasn’t the reason for my going, it only occurred to me after I’d decided, and I’m glad it turned out so.” He paused and shifted, and even in the dark Bucky could just guess the kind of face he was making. “Also if I’m honest, the fact things were tricky was part of the reason why I left the way I did, only telling you just before. It was kind of retaliatory, and I’m not proud of that.”

Steve drew in a breath to continue, and Bucky butted in since he knew what he was about to say. “If I’m not allowed to apologize anymore, you’re definitely not either,” he said seriously, ready to argue if needed.

Steve let out the breath and laughed. “I suppose that’s fair.”

The night ended on a good note, the whole day had been a relief in that they’d managed to speak about some difficult things between them, and things were better because of it. When it started to get chilly they retired, and without needing to talk about it went to sleep next to each other.

* * *

In the morning Bucky stirred when Steve got out of the bed. From the light he knew it was still early, earlier than he usually woke up if he’d had a good night like this one had been, but the time difference between the coasts probably explained at least part of it. In his sleep, he’d turned toward Steve and one of his hands was extended out toward the center of the bed, but his skin didn’t feel warm in a way he supposed it would have had there been actual contact.

“Let’s go for a run,” Steve said from where he was standing by the closet, and while it wasn’t Bucky’s usual activity, especially since there was no way of going unrecognized in New York, he was unable to say no when Steve suggested it.

The morning chill lingered in the air when they set out, an unmistakable sign that the season was turning toward the fall, and the mist was unusually thick that morning, making the rising sun’s light pale and hazy. Steve started out with a brisk pace, something that would have been impossible for an unenhanced human to follow for long, but that Bucky easily kept up with since it wasn’t anywhere near their limit. They ran mostly along the shore once more, and they saw some people walking their dogs and some cars passing by on the nearby street, but no one seemed to pay any attention to them despite their pace.

They ran for a couple of hours, pushing a bit harder on the way back, and it felt like another kind of release, a joyous way of using his abilities that Bucky rarely enjoyed other than when teaching the twins. This was different, though, it was freeing to just run with Steve, to easily keep up with each other, no worries or responsibilities for a while, just the wind in his hair and lightness in his chest.

They were laughing when they arrived back at the house, not at anything specific, just laughing. Bucky felt a budding happiness, something that wasn’t a fully grown state of being yet but had the potential to become one, and it made him giddy, and perhaps it was the same for Steve. Just a couple of days had made such a huge difference in their relationship, but it didn’t exactly come as a surprise. It had been a bit similar during the war after they’d reconnected, albeit to a lesser scale. They’d been awkward at first with each other even though they’d instinctively worked well together, it had taken some time for them to figure out how they fit together again in a whole new situation, having been changed by their experiences since they’d last seen each other, but they had clicked, and after that it had been easier to work through the barriers between them.

It was much the same now, although the walls between them were stronger, and they’d changed much more thoroughly in the time between, but it seemed some things always stayed the same, and maybe the most important was that if they just wanted to, they would find a way to belong with each other. Bucky also meant to do better this time. Knowing they were on the right path didn’t mean the work was done, and this time he intended to not hide anything from Steve. During the war they hadn’t quite managed to break all the barriers between them, because Bucky had been determined to hide what had happened to him, and in retrospect he believed it had led to other problems. He was sure now that Steve had known even then that he’d been holding back, and in turn it had made Steve hesitant to push him. It hadn’t led to as big consequences as it had this second time, but the potential had been there even then, and Bucky intended to learn from it.

Now, knowing the potential pitfalls and with a plan to go forward with, it was easy to just laugh with Steve, to move around him as they made breakfast and ate to replenish their energy stores after the run. It was comfortable, familiar from years before and missed even though Bucky had never admitted it to even himself, and he basked in the sensation. Perhaps it was the very enjoyment that meant he didn’t really catch the change in mood from the beginning, but only when the air between them already felt electric.

This too was familiar, the slide from ease to wanting had happened so many times before that they probably should have expected it, but Bucky at least hadn’t, and hadn’t allowed himself to even think of what he’d do in this situation if they ever got to it. It might have been awkward, considering how difficult many situations that had to do with interacting with people were for him these days, but it wasn’t. It was the easiest thing in the world to step closer, to meet Steve in the middle of the room and to touch him.

Steve apparently hadn’t changed at all, he grabbed the front of Bucky’s shirt and pulled him in for a kiss, just as assertive as he’d been when he’d weighed only half as much, and the last thought Bucky had before just letting himself feel was that he was grateful Steve didn’t even try to be careful or any more gentle than was his natural instinct.

It wasn’t to say there wasn’t gentleness, there had always been and was now, in all of their interactions, but it had always been true that when they felt like this, when heat and wanting was on the top of their heads, they’d always pushed and pulled, held tight because they’d known the other also wanted it, and it felt like another piece sliding home to know this was still how it worked.

He clutched at the sides of Steve’s shirt and pulled him right against himself, seeking more contact while his lips parted to let Steve in to taste him. Kissing was a rush, the kind of intimacy he hadn’t allowed and hadn’t even really missed up until now, and it went right into his head, leaving him unsteady and breathless when they pulled apart just a bit and looked at each other.

Steve grinned at him, and the obvious happiness in it was blinding, as overwhelming as looking at the sun, and Bucky was left disoriented and confused when Steve pulled away, only to grab his wrist and to pull him toward the bedroom. Bucky’s brain kicked in enough to recognize it was definitely a good idea, and so he easily followed Steve and when in the bedroom pushed him onto the bed, only to be pulled right on top of him. It was probably both their sense of coordination that allowed them to end up nearly gracefully into another kiss rather than a tangle of limbs and bumps and bruises on the bed, even though Bucky did feel his knee hit Steve’s thigh in a way that might have been less than ideal, but Steve paid no heed to it, just held tighter on Bucky and focused on the kiss, and Bucky followed suit.

They’d kissed countless times before, but never quite like this. Always before there’d been a rush to it, even in the privacy of their home, and more so later during the war, the fear at the back of their minds of being interrupted or discovered, no matter how unlikely it might have been. Now it didn’t matter, there was no danger in it like there used to, and so they could take all the time they needed. The burn of desire meant they weren’t going to go slow at least this time around, but the only rush there now was had to do with the wanting, the fear was left in the past.

Steve slid his hands underneath Bucky’s shirt, intensifying their connection instantly, and with it came the need to be rid of the layers between them. They pulled apart and stripped, making it the most efficient process they could without actually getting out of the bed or even from the close contact between each other.

This time, when they came together again, Bucky got Steve’s elbow to his side and retaliated by tickling him, and they dissolved into laughter that shifted into kissing again, into moving against each other and allowing the desire to run hot through each other. Steve’s body was mostly familiar, but there were details Bucky didn’t recognize, a fading scar there, a reminder of a recent battle here, marks that the serum enhanced healing hadn’t yet erased. Touching him was different now, with one of Bucky’s hands being metal rather than flesh, but Steve didn’t treat it any differently, and so it was easy for Bucky also to just go with the flow.

There were so many things he remembered and loved to discover again; the way Steve sometimes held his breath when he felt everything was too intense, the way it left him with a rush, the way his lashed fluttered against his cheeks when he was overwhelmed, and the way he still knew exactly how to touch Bucky to bring him to bliss. Familiar too was collapsing against each other when spent, but new here as well was the lack of rush, the knowledge that there was nothing they needed to fear.

Bucky felt like every bit of remaining tension had left his body, to a degree that he wasn’t sure if he could have moved even if he’d wanted to. His cheek was resting on Steve’s bicep, and he was just listening to the mingled sound of their breathing. Steve seemed to be just as boneless as he felt, completely still and relaxed, but not sleeping. Bucky felt almost more awake than before, as if a part of him had come to life once more, no matter how his body seemed to have gone offline.

“This is not what I expected to happen,” he said idly, not really meaning anything with it, but he immediately felt the slightest tension running through Steve.

“I didn’t either,” Steve said, and while Bucky was mostly sure everything was still good between them, he needed to check.

“Do you regret it?”

Steve was silent for a long moment, before asking, “Do you?”

It was a question, and yet Bucky knew it wasn’t an evasion, it was an answer, too. It meant,  _ Only if you do, _ and there was a very clear reply to that.

“Not at all,” he said, and the tension shifted, from anticipation to action when Steve pulled him closer and wrapped his arms around him. They’d need to shower soon, and then think of something to eat once more, but right now, Bucky was content to stay where he was as long as Steve was too.

* * *

While previously Bucky had avoided actually looking at Steve for fear of what he might notice, he now couldn’t tear his gaze away. And he’d been correct in believing that Steve would look at him differently, would see more of him than was sometimes comfortable, but he’d been wrong too, because it didn’t hurt him to know this. Steve looked at him differently, but of course he did, they were both different people from before. What he now saw in Steve’s eyes wouldn’t have suited the man he used to be, but it did him; the unflinching understanding, the compassion, the belief that shone through. It was just as overwhelming as the way Steve had looked at him before or during the war had been, and it filled him with a glow once more. All he could do was to hope that Steve got back something even half as wonderful. Steve at least seemed to be happy, and Bucky took it to his heart, held it as a sign that he was doing the right thing, and tried to not stress over anything and just see where things went.

Steve had taken up the habit of sketching again, even though he sometimes complained his hands didn’t obey him at all, but he stuck to it with the tenacity familiar from decades back, and what was most important, he seemed to find joy in it again. Bucky had started to read aloud for him, sometimes half important news or scientific articles, sometimes short stories. He was thinking of selecting a longer book to read for them soon, now that he felt daily that their situation became more permanent.

They usually started the mornings with a run, and ended the day sitting outside on the patio, watching the sunset and the darkening twilight. Those were the times when they most usually talked, just sharing things from their lives they’d so far avoided.

“It’s funny,” Bucky said one night, “I was objectively miserable during the war, and yet sometimes I find myself nostalgic for those times, for some specific moments. Sometimes even just for the time in general, because although hard, it was still before so much pain.”

“I sometimes miss that one winter, when we were really poor and I was sick almost constantly. I haven’t told anyone, because I don’t think they would understand why, but it was still a time when I had my Ma, when she was still healthy and hopeful even when tired.”

“Our friends get a lot, and yet sometimes I feel like they really wouldn’t understand the weird missing of the past, and how sometimes it feels like I’m weighing my losses and gains and end up at a result that should make no sense but does.”

Steve hummed in agreement. “That’s how I’ve felt ever since I was found, but I guess it’s fair, there are things about all of them that I don’t get either. It’s nice, though, to have people who all get a smaller or larger part of you. But I’m glad to have someone who really knows how miserable yet wonderful the New York winters were back then.”

“Or how amazing and yet suffocating the summers were,” Bucky said, smiling. This was something that was theirs, something no one else would ever understand quite as well, but it was okay. It was enough to have one who knew.

“I’m glad we’re getting this back,” Steve continued. “I did really think we’d lost it, for a time, and so this is all the sweeter.”

“I’m also glad, and I understand how hard it must have been that I didn’t really look at you, that I forgot to do what I always tried to.” Bucky almost apologized again, the words already on his tongue, but he remembered what Steve had said, and swallowed them. Steve reached out to take his hand.

“I get why, though, and it must have been so terrifying. I’m not saying it didn’t hurt, but we’re here now, and I’m looking forward to where we’ll go.” Bucky squeezed Steve’s hand in agreement, not finding words, and after a moment Steve continued. “I tried, you know, after I woke up to connect with people. I made friends, mostly with people who live this bonkers life along with us, but with anyone else it was hard to find something to hold on to. I did miss having someone, and that’s why I went to some of the dates Nat suggested, but it didn’t take, and after a while I just stopped.”

“So it was all the pent up energy that morning after the run,” Bucky teased, but he also remembered the discussion of Natasha and Sam he’d accidentally heard, and realized he’d gotten an answer to the question he’d pondered then.

Steve turned his head and looked at him in the darkness. “I think it was just you,” he said, and Bucky really had no answer to it other than pull him in for a kiss.

* * *

On another night, Bucky said to Steve, “I don’t need you to do anything special for me. I just need you to be you.”

They’d started the night leaning on each other, and by then Steve’s head was comfortably resting on Bucky’s shoulder. He briefly raised it to look at him. “Where did this come from?”

“You said, on the day you left, that you didn’t see how you were of any use for me. But that’s not what it’s about, even when you do help me, probably more than you know. It’s not why you’re important to me, and I just wanted you to know that.”

“Ah,” Steve said, sounding a bit sheepish. “You caught that, did you? I’m working on it. And I believe you. I know it’s never been about what we do for each other, just what we are, and I’m happy to have you back, maybe more than you know.”

“Maybe differently, since I’m not in your head, but I really can’t believe you’re any happier than I am,” Bucky said.

Steve leaned back to rest against him. “Sounds about right.”

* * *

They stayed for another week, but they were both getting restless, and eager to travel together. They remembered the places Bucky had decades ago talked to Steve about, and they hadn’t yet seen all of them, and none together. They knew their road would in time lead back to New York, back to the Tower that was now their home, where their closest friends lived, but they weren’t in a hurry to get there. Their home would wait, and they still had work to do in really becoming as close as they could. They’d started it, but to truly know someone, even if it felt like your souls were made of the same cloth, took time, and they were still putting the hours in.

Bucky was truly happy for the first time in decades, and because Steve said he was as well, he believed it. It felt like the biggest miracle of all, that despite everything that had happened they’d made their way to a new haven. Looking back it should have been almost impossible, but then, perhaps it wasn’t such a surprise they’d come through after all. Steve especially had faced the impossible ever since young age and come through every time, through every illness and obstacle. Bucky had burned with Zola’s experiments that had taken everyone else, but not him somehow. He didn’t know if it was a coincidence or fate, but he knew what they’d been through had refined them, had given them the ability to withstand the pressure to break, and had allowed them to make their way back to each other. They’d been tied together in their early lives, and the bond still held strong, had lasted through pain and missteps. It hadn’t been destroyed, and now Bucky was confident nothing from the outside ever would break it. It was only them that might do so, but Bucky would never, no matter how many more years their lives would span, and he was confident Steve would neither.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! 💙
> 
> I’m stellahibernis also in other places, but currently active only on [tumblr](https://stellahibernis.tumblr.com/).


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